Hardest of Hearts
by IndigoRiot
Summary: "I'm still that same, stupid little girl. I'm in love with a guy who's in love with the world, but he doesn't see me and it hurts so much!" Some years older but perhaps no wiser, Amy Rose struggles to find herself through the pain of a broken heart. But with an unexpected change in the wind, she soon discovers that happiness and love don't always walk hand in hand anyway. AU.
1. I Think I'm Happy

**Chapter One: I Think I'm Happy**

The sun is shining brightly outside my window and the birds are tweeting oh-so-cheerily, but I just can't wipe this scowl off my face. I slam down the hairbrush and huff, making my sorry excuse for bangs lift up and float around even more, taunting me with their rebellion. Stupid cowlick. I'll never be ready for the party this afternoon at this rate! My eyes drift pettily towards the scissors.

No! That will only make it worse… calm down, Amy. You remember what happened last time. It's just hair – no big deal. What does it matter if my bangs don't lie flat? It's not exactly the end of the world. Besides, Sonic even told me it looked cute once, that time it just wouldn't lie flat under my winter hat and kept peeking out instead. I mean, sure, I was like twelve at the time and cute isn't exactly I'm going for these days… I can't have Sonic treating me like a little girl forever. Whatever Amy, get a grip. This isn't Sonic's day, anyway – this is my day! My birthday, to be exact. Sweet, sweet sixteen, at last.

The thought brings a smile to my lips again and lights up my reflection in the mirror. Then I look around the room. _My_ room. A new year, a new apartment, a new me.

I decided to move out about a year ago. Of course, I loved living in the tower with Sonic and Tails… we used to have so much fun together; between Tail's tinkering and projects, Sonic's antics and Eggman's crazy plots, we had a blast. Well, most of the time, at least. Sometimes. Heh, who am I kidding? Truth is, Tails was only really around half the time and Sonic even less than that. He never could stay still for more than five minutes. Sonic is like the wind, he won't be slowed or tamed or caught, and I'd always have to make the choice between being alone and lonely, or trying to keep up with him. He's so fast, and always out of reach… it seems like I've spent half my life chasing after him incessantly like the stupid girl I am – was. _Was._ New year, new living space, new me – remember?

Anyway, Rouge was right – I needed some space. I needed some time. I needed to – as cliché as it sounds – find myself. If I ever wanted Sonic to treat me as anything other than a silly, love-struck little girl, then I had to start acting like something other than some silly, love-struck little girl. So now, here I am, finally on my own and doing my own thing. And, honestly, I think I'm happier than I've ever been.

There are still some boxes piled up in the far corner, waiting to be unpacked. Between my shifts at the bakery and delving through thrift stores for cookie cutters and pretty bracelets, I haven't had a lot of time on my hands. But still, I'm _mostly_ moved in now, which is great. Although, I think I might want to switch the bed and the dresser around again… maybe push it up against the corner and move the dresser beside the window to free up more floor space? Oh, then maybe I could get that rug I saw on the high-street last week and place it between them! I haven't quite burned through all of my savings yet…

I rush over to the pile of boxes, my hands rummaging through all of the crap that I didn't realise I had. I just _know_ there's a stack of photographs in here somewhere that will look great pinned up on the wall over the dresser. My fingers have just clutched around the chunky paper envelope that I think the photographs are in when the doorbell suddenly rings. Surprise numbs my fingers and it falls into the box again.

"Huh? Who'd be calling by at this hour?" I whisper to myself, looking at the clock as I walk past the bed. It's nowhere near time for the party… I quickly grab a hair-tie on my way past the bathroom and shove my hair up unto a quick bun – better to look deliberately dishevelled than an accidental wreck, I think, rolling my eyes. I step over a couple more boxes and trip over a lone boot on my way to the door.

"Hello?" I begin saying as I unlock the door and peep around it. Then I swing it open, a pleasantly surprised grin all over my face. "Oh, hi! What are you doing here, Shadow?"

The midnight-black hedgehog stands out in the hallway looking simultaneously strong, proud, aloof and above everything around him yet also unsure of himself, as though he isn't quite certain he if should be outside my door at all. He clears his throat and fidgets with the ribbon around the pot of delicate yellow flowers in his hands. "I heard it was your birthday today," he states.

I laughed. "How could you not? I've practically been singing it from the rooftops for the past month and a half."

"Hm. Well that may have been a more… pleasant reminder than Rouge's threats to attend the party or else miss it on pain of death," he smirks.

"She didn't? Oh, she's awful!" I exclaim with a laugh, imagining the exchange in my head. It wasn't often that Sonic, Tails and I were called in to help with GUN's business, but on the occasions that we were, we'd been able to see Shadow and Rouge at work. Their professional dynamic was… well, interesting, to say the least. "I hope you didn't pay her any mind."

"I rarely do," Shadow replies flatly, scratching his temple. "Unfortunately, I leave this afternoon on a mission for the commander, so these are an apology as much as a gift," he explains, holding the flowers up before him and handing them out to me.

I take them carefully into my arms and their subtle, gentle fragrance washes over me. They're so cute and dainty. "Aww, you really didn't have to. But – thank you, Shadow – they're really lovely," I add quickly, seeing the uncertain look in his eyes again.

"You're welcome."

"…So, umm, would you like to stay for a coffee or some tea or something…?" I offer, after a few seconds of slightly awkward silence. I glance behind me at the boxes in my chaotic little lounge and scratch my head. "I err, I _think_ I remember which box the kettle is in." I suddenly feel very young and disorganised, standing here offering tea to the ultimate lifeform with nothing but a loose bathrobe over my pyjamas, wearing the kitty slippers Cream gave me for my birthday last year, with a serious case of bed-hair and no idea where the kettle is. I'm hardly fit for serving guests of any kind. Silly girl.

Once again, Shadow smirks, seemingly able to read my mind. "Ah, thank you, but no," he replies coolly, beginning to step away. "I'm sure you have a lot to be getting on with, as do I," he says while checking his watch and straightening the regulation GUN agent's tie that I know he hates wearing.

"Oh, please," I whine, temporarily forgetting my bed-hair and kettle-less state. It's been ages since I really talked to Shadow, he's so busy – but I don't want him leave again so soon. Otherwise, chances are I won't see him again until the next time the world as we know it is in danger again which, to be fair, happens way more often than it should. "At least come in and have a look around," I bargain, gesturing with my free hand around the lounge. "You're the only one of my friends who hasn't seen the place yet!"

Shadow simply stands in the hall and folds his arms, expressionless. Then he raises an eyebrow. _I_ step to the side, opening up the doorway and raise _both_ of my eyebrows right back. Before he even sighs and rolls his eyes, I know I've won.

"Fine," he mutters, stepping stiffly past me and into the lounge. He really needs to learn how to loosen up.

"Yes! Okay, so prepare yourself for the grand tour! This here is the lounge," I say, pointing out the obvious and gesturing around the room dramatically as the front door closes behind me. Then I notice the state of disarray it is in. "Ah, jeez, I forgot that I still have to take those down to the recycling hub. Well, anyway, the couch is somewhere under that stack of empty boxes," I explain, waving my hands at it. "And I'll be moving it over to that corner once I've gotten rid of the TV set. It was here when I moved in and I really don't want it."

"Mm-hmm," Shadow tones automatically.

"Would you like it?" I ask hopefully with a sideways smile. The sooner I can be rid of it, the better.

Shadow frowns. "…No."

"Darn. Ok, never mind. Anyway, so I'm planning whitewashing the walls and then filling this one up with posters and photographs. Over here I'm gonna set up my stereo. Through that door there is the bathroom and my bedroom. If you think it's messy here then you don't even want to see in there. And right over here is my kitchen," I say brightly, energetically skipping all of three steps over to it. "This is where the magic happens."

I love my kitchen. In fact, the kitchen is the reason I chose this apartment. The oven is simply to die for. I love love love it and it's easy to tell, since it's the only room in the apartment that doesn't look like hell. It was the first thing I set to arranging after I moved in, besides the obvious essentials. I've been gradually shuffling things around all week trying to make sure that everything is in its perfect place and yesterday, I finally felt that its feng shui was perfectly harmonious at last. Like, really, I walk in now and it's like... a breath of fresh air every time.

"So, what do you think?" I turn around and grin at Shadow, who seems taken aback at my asking for his opinion.

He takes the time to glance around the room again, crimson eyes roaming thoughtfully over everything. "Well, it's certainly… you," he says, almost shrugging.

"Huh, and what's that supposed to mean?" I ask, scoffing.

He ignores the question and steps around the box-littered couch to peer through the window. "You have quite the large balcony," he states, craning his neck to see it.

"Oh," I blink. "Yeah! It's nice, isn't it? But I'm not sure what I want to do with it yet though," I admit. "I don't have much in the way of plants, except for this lovely little thing now," I say, shifting the junk on the coffee table onto the floor and carefully placing the yellow flowers down. "And I don't really know what else a balcony is used for. I've never had one before."

"I'm sure you'll figure something out," he says, giving me the smallest of smiles. Then he starts beeping. He sighs and walks past me, towards the door. "Well, I have to leave. Thank you for the 'grand tour'," he smirks.

I almost swat him on the arm. "You're welcome," I say with a roll of my eyes as I see him out of the door. "Thanks for coming by, Shadow. I hope your super-secret mission goes well."

"Of course it will. They always do," he replies, sounding slightly offended. Then his expression softens slightly as he turns to walk down the hall. "Happy birthday, Amy Rose."

"Thanks!" I call after his retreating form. I watch him until he disappears around the corner, smiling. Well, that was a pleasantly unexpected surprise. I'm quite touched he went to the effort of passing by.

I close the door and return to my bedroom, glancing up at the clock as I – What? Oh no, holy cripes, how is it eleven o'clock already? I've only got four hours until everyone starts arriving for my housewarming-slash-birthday party later, there are still boxes everywhere and I'm not even close to being showered or dressed yet. Cream said she'd be over with her mom at twelve to help me get the place ready. Oh jeez, how embarrassing will it be for Cream's mom to see the state of the place after I've been here all week? Why am I not more organized?!

Okay okay, Amy – breathe. Step one, shower; step two, dress; step three, everything else. I've got loads of time and Cream will help me with the rest. Tonight, I am going look great and Sonic is sure to be impressed with how far I've come. And maybe now that I'm sixteen, he'll finally think I'm old enough to…

No no no, you silly girl – stop living your live around him! Now take a deep breath, clear your mind and get a wiggle on. You've got a party to prepare for.

* * *

"Yo Amy, happy birthday!" Knuckles yells with a grin as I open the door for him. He's about three hours late, of course, but I'm really happy to see him anyway. He throws a too-tight, one-armed hug around me. Somehow, he manages to hit me in the face with the present in his hand, too, and I can't quite tell whether it's on purpose or by accident, despite the little 'oops – sorry' that he chuckles afterwards.

"Hi Knuckles – ouch – yeah, it's great to see you!" I say, rubbing the side of my face. It's a good thing that whatever gift he's brought for me is soft and squishy.

"Place looks much better than it did when we moved the boxes in," he says, stepping in and looking around. He immediately begins to shuffle his feet to the sounds of Maroon 5 blasting from speakers – speakers that are balanced precariously on top of the pile of boxes in the corner. When Cream and Vanilla came over earlier, they helped me tidy most of what needed tidying, organise what I'd need for the party and then limit the rest of my crap to exactly four boxes – the ones piled in the corner. Now there's loads more room to move about – exactly what I needed for the party.

"Yeah, it's getting there, slowly but surely," I reply, smiling and shrugging. Then I grin cheekily. "So, is that for me?" I ask, looking at the gift in his hand and lifting my eyebrows expectantly.

"Oh – yah, here you go, hope you like it," he shouts over the music, scratching his head. "I tried to get something nice but useful."

I eagerly tear open the wrapping paper, hoping that its isn't –

"Oh – wow! Umm, thanks Knuckles! An apron and some matching over-mitts, just what I need. Aw, and these are really cute, too, you shouldn't have!" I say, torn between groaning and laughing. Wonderful. I'll have to put these in the kitchen now with the other four matching sets I've already been given. Am I really that predictable?

"It ain't nothing – I know you like your baking," he chuckles. "I'm glad you like 'em. So, where's Blue hiding?" he says, scanning my small room with narrowed eyes.

I sigh but try to keep the smile on my face. I've been wondering the same thing myself all evening. "Oh, Sonic? He's… not here yet," I say, waving my hand and forcing nonchalance. Despite my small disappointment in his gift, I find myself clutching it close to my chest; this apron is more comfort to me than Sonic probably ever will be. "You know what he's like, probably distracted by some chilli-dog stand or other."

Despite my attempts at off-handedness, Knuckles sees right through me, I think. He narrows his eyes even more and says, "Idiot. He's missing out on something, tonight."

I roll my eyes. "Knuckles, it's no big deal, really. I'm happy that so many of my friends are here. You guys make me feel really special, you know."

"… If you say so," he grunts. I know I don't have him convinced. But then he smiles kindly. "You look real nice tonight, Amy." I know he's trying to make me feel better, but it only makes me feel worse.

"Thanks. Speaking of which, I need go to the bathroom, check my hair and stuff. I think I can feel a loose pin," I lie quickly, suddenly wanting to get away from him before I do something stupid, like cry. "Mighty and Espio are out on the balcony. They asked after you when they came."

"Oh sweet," Knuckles said, clapping his huge hands together, perfectly distracted. "Is Vector here too? That sly-dog still owes me money…" he mutters, stalking across the room without bothering to wait for an answer. But I shrug in reply anyway and begin stepping around the people in the room.

Tails is on the couch taking apart the TV for its circuitry or spare parts or whatever, and he's good-naturedly joining in with Charmy and Ray as they argue over what song should be played next; the stereo atop the boxes wobbles precariously over them as the remote is snatched to and fro. Rouge is nowhere in sight; she's probably too busy scrutinising my wardrobe, I think, to notice that Knuckles has arrived, which is probably for the best. I step around Big while he's trying to manage the kitchen and almost smile at the sight of Cream as _she_ tries to manage _him_ managing the kitchen. It's only when I reach the bathroom and lock the door behind me that I finally relax; I feel the stiff smile fall off my face and, in the mirror, I watch as my face crumples beyond my control.

Last spring, Cream and I went to Central Park to walk along the bluebell trail when I bumped into Sonic – literally bumped into him. He knocked over the ice-cream I was holding and offered to buy me a new one to make up for it. I chose mint and chocolate chip and that's when I learned what Sonic's favourite colour is – mint green. I asked why and he grinned at me, scratched his nose and said ''cause it's chill and cool, like me'. I laughed and he left to do his thing. But I always remembered what his favourite colour was.

Tonight, I'm wearing my mint green dress. I picked it out especially.

I'm pathetic.

I'm standing here, on the evening of my sixteenth birthday, on the verge of tears over a boy who I'm trying so desperately not to care about, but all I've done is prove to myself how much I do. And the more I think about it, the less I understand why.

If I'm honest with myself, all Sonic's ever done is run away from me. Even when he isn't actively making an escape attempt… he's always just out of reach. I've never been able to keep up with him, and _he's_ never stopped long enough for me to properly try. Sometimes I wonder if he even really knows about the way I feel. He _has_ to know if it's so blindingly obvious to everyone else, I think venomously.

…So it must just be that he doesn't care.

Of course, I know he _cares_. He's saved my life more times than I can count. That's how we first met – him saving my life all those years ago. It seems so long ago now. But... that's what Sonic does. He saves people. He's a hero. He does good and brave and amazing things. He fights the bad guys and makes it his business to explore every nook and cranny of the land, keeping the peace and making friends along the way. Adventure and travel and the thrill of battle and the taste of freedom, that's what Sonic loves. Not me. Just because he's saved my life doesn't mean I'm anything special to him. If I were, he would have come tonight. He would've made the time. But I'm not special enough.

I think I realize that now.

"Amy…?"

My lip trembles and I don't even turn around at the dainty sound of the knock at the door.

"Amy, is everything alright? You've been in there for a quite a while now."

I take a deep breath to try and steady myself. "I'm fi-fine, Cream." Darn. Didn't work.

Cream is silent for a few seconds before she gently speaks again. "Amy… can you unlock the door, please?"

I close my eyes and feel those traitorous tears escape; they slide down my cheeks, cold and heavy. Knowing that Cream won't go away, I turn around and unlock the door. Then I sit on the side of the bathtub, wrap my arms around myself and stare at the floor. Cream steps quietly into the bathroom and closes the door again, understanding that I don't want to be seen. She takes a tissue and hands it to me, before sitting quietly at my side and rubbing my back. She doesn't say anything as bawl into the tissue like a child.

"I'm still that same stupid, little girl," I hiccough eventually.

"What do you mean?" she asks. Her voice is calm and soothing.

"The one who ran after Sonic the first time he saved me. The one who couldn't keep up with him and tripped up trying. The one who scraped her knee because of it and just sat there crying on the ground afterwards," I say bitterly, wiping my nose and throwing the tissue into the trash. "Look at me, Cree. I haven't changed one bit after all these years."

"Well, that's not a bad thing," Cream said. "You're kind and thoughtful and confident. I wouldn't want you to change, Amy, not ever! In fact, I hope I can be more like you when I'm older."

I roll my eyes miserably. "No you don't. Otherwise you'll just wind up letting your heart run off after someone, getting it hurt and then doing the same thing over and over again, just like me… I'm an idiot."

"No you're not," she said firmly. She gets to her feet and puts her tiny hands on her tiny hips. With that fire in her eyes, she almost looks scary. Almost. "You are not an idiot, Amy Rose. You can't help the way your heart feels."

"Well I wish I could," I say, looking down to the floor again. It begins to swim around as fresh tears swell up in my eyes. I try and blink them away. "Because I'm in love with a guy who's in love with the _world_ , and he doesn't _see_ me and it just hurts so much."

Suddenly I'm bawling again and Cream's arms are around me and I feel like she's the older one in this friendship, the stronger one, the wiser one. "I know," she whispers soothingly. "I'm sorry."

"Me t-too."

* * *

I wake up later that night disoriented and confused. My eyes are still sore and my head feels foggy. I sit up in the bed, stretch my arms and rub my eyes.

I had the weirdest dream. I dreamt that I was at Cream's house, but she was as big as the house itself and I was tiny – small enough to fit into a teacup. She blundered noisily and clumsily around the house, trying to find me and almost stepped on me several times. I just wanted to go home. There was a trail of yellow flowers that lead across the floor and up through the window and I knew that they were my way out, but I couldn't find a way up there. Then Cream's Chao, Cheese, floated over to me and I think he offered to fly me up to the window sill but when he started speaking, it was Sonic's voice I heard.

" _Psst! Amy!"_

I gasp and pull the covers instinctively around me. There it is again, the sound of my name in Sonic's voice, followed by a faint tapping. But I'm awake now, and not dreaming anymore.

" _Amy, wake up! Psssst, Amy! Shoot, this is not going to plan. Gonna have to try and find…"_

I rocket out of bed, grab the bathrobe, pull it over my pyjamas and practically fly into the lounge which is where I think the sound is coming from. Eyes narrowed suspiciously, I draw up the blinds and –

"Ah, you're awake! Come on out here, Amy!" comes the slightly muffled voice of Sonic's silhouette on my balcony. He's a silhouette not because I am dreaming, but because my entire balcony is bathed in a strange, ethereal glow. Okay, so maybe I am still dreaming. "So err… are you gonna open up the door or what?"

Still dazed, I slowly reach out my hand, turn the key and push aside the door leading onto the balcony. What I see there takes my breath away.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Hey guys, hope you're having a good weekend! :3_

 _This is the first chapter in a short story that I've been writing to try and get more comfortable with writing in first person. If any of you pop in and out of the Beyblade fandom and happen to know me from there, then you'll know that I NEVER write first person. So this is kind of a big deal for me. I hope you've enjoyed reading it, because I've definitely enjoyed writing it. This chapter's been a little slow but things are going to get juicy, I promise. :p_

 _This is also something I've been working on alongside a much larger project that hopefully you'll be seeing soon. This is a prequel of sorts, I guess, to that story, from Amy's point of view._

 _Also, yeah, romance. This is me trying to write romance. I'm gonna try and keep angst out of it but hey, this is me we're talking about. Angst is apparently my favourite thing to write. xD_

 _Anyway, see you in two weeks time for the next update. Reviews are always very, very appreciated - I'd love to know your thoughts on the story so far!_

 _~ Indie x_


	2. Mostly Happy

**Chapter Two: Mostly Happy**

My balcony is covered in flowers. Large-petaled, pearl-tinted, iridescent flowers. Some have a soft pink hue to them, others a pale lilac or rose-gold tint. They look like silk and seashells and starlight all in one. They are strung in garlands all around the balcony's railing, they hang in the previously empty hanging baskets and cascade down towards the floor. There's a small bunch in a little ceramic pot on the table – a mint green one with a cute little face on it that I recognise from back at the tower – and exactly one flower in Sonic's hand.

"…Sonic," I whisper, almost knocked down to my knees with nostalgia and the sheer beauty of it all. I remember the last time I saw these flowers, nearly two years ago, as vividly as if it were yesterday. From a mission that almost went badly, only for Sonic to pull us all through at the last second. They only grow in one place. "These are –"

"Yeah, lunar roses," Sonic finishes. He reaches up with the flower in his hand and tucks it into my hair, just behind my ear. "From the Gaia Temples. I remember how much you liked them. Thought they'd be the perfect thing to spruce up your new place!" Then he smiles a little meekly, scratching his nose. "Happy Birthday."

For a few minutes I just stand there, breathless, staring at the flowers. They really are _so_ beautiful. It's said that they only ever open under the light of the moon and are most beautiful when it's full. There's something magical about them and it's a little while before I can think again. Slowly, I reach out and trace my finger lightly over a petal. They're exactly as soft as they look. Amazing.

"So, er… Amy? What'd'ya think?" he asked, a touch of uncertainty clouding his voice.

I finally manage to tear my eyes away from the flowers and I look at Sonic. His eyes are bright with the glow from the flowers, but he looks tired. There are dark circles just forming under his eyes, and there's a smudge of dirt by his nose from where he must have scratched it while arranging this unbelievable display.

I want to say thank you. I want to tell him how beautiful the flowers are and ask how long it took him to put everything together. I want to say that I can't believe he'd do something like this, for me.

"… You weren't at the party."

The words are out of my mouth before I can help it and Sonic's smile is fading. But he recovers as quickly and effortlessly as always, replacing his uncertainty and confusion with the cocky half-smile that I used to love.

"I know – but I can explain!" he begins, scratching his quills. "So… you know how the lunar roses only open when the moon's out, right?"

I nod.

"Well, did you also know that if you pick them during the day, they die?"

At this, I shake my head. "No… I had no idea."

Sonic grins with a hint of embarrassment. "Yeah, me too. I had to make a second trip."

"Oh…" is the only sound that makes it out of my mouth. The only thing that crosses my mind is a small, fleeting sadness for the flowers that died.

A few moments pass and I continue staring at the garland of roses that adorn the railing, the view of the city, the stars, and the moon – anything but Sonic himself. Out of the corner of my eye, however, I can see him twiddling his thumbs and shuffling his feet. I am intensely aware of him watching me. I know he's waiting for some kind of reaction. And, honestly, so am I. After the initial shock of walking out onto my balcony and finding Sonic waiting for me in a whole new shimmering, opalescent world of beauty, I was expecting some kind of rush of emotion. I should feel joy and happiness that Sonic had finally come, late but still _here_ , as always, and that's what matters in the end. Maybe I should feel gratitude because he's obviously spent a lot of time preparing this. Perhaps even anger or irritation, for leaving me hanging all night only to wake me up in the small hours of the morning. But I feel none of those things. After spending almost the entire night crying over him, I feel completely drained, like there's nothing left over. I'm spent, and I know Sonic can see it in my eyes because he's stepping forward now – tentatively, which is unusual for him – and when I look up I can see genuine concern and confusion in his eyes.

"Well, I don't see your hammer anywhere yet so… I think it's safe to assume you're not mad at me," he joked, trying to lighten my mood. It doesn't work the way it used to. "But you're not happy, are you?"

I don't know what to say. So I say nothing. Sonic sighs at my silence and leans back against the railing.

"I'm sorry I missed the party, Ames," he said softly. "I know you were excited about it but I wanted to do something nice for you. I didn't think me not being there would upset –"

"I'm not upset," I say, my pride finally breaking my silence, and I realise too late the hardness in my voice. A few hours ago, all I wanted was for Sonic to turn up and flash his cheeky half-grin at me. Now, all I want is for him to leave. "Sonic, it's three am and I have work in the morning," I lie, threading my fingers tiredly through my hair. Vanilla gave me the weekend off as a birthday treat but… he doesn't need to know that.

"Oh, okay," Sonic says slowly after a few moments. "…You should go back to sleep then."

I nod. "Yeah. Goodnight, Sonic…"

I turn and grip the handle of my balcony door when it dawns on me that I haven't even said thank you to Sonic for the flowers, yet. But when I look over my shoulder, he's already gone. He didn't even say goodbye. I sigh and let myself into the apartment again, stepping over the empty soda bottles and paper plates that I'll have to clean up in the morning. The lounge really is a hot mess, and I almost smile at how it seems like the least of my worries.

On my way back to bed, I am distracted by movement and a flash of light from the corner of my eye. I jump, only realising a second too late that I have just been frightened by my own reflection. I still have the rose in my hair; the mirror caught its glow.

Tiredly, I step into the bathroom and approach the mirror. I pluck the rose from of my hair and lay it down beside the sink, next to the yellow flowers from Shadow. It's only then, under the resonating light of the rose, that I realise precisely what flowers they are – Primroses. They are special to him, because they were special to Maria. He told me so, once, and I was touched beyond belief that he would share something so personal with someone like me. And then I notice something else – a small card, nestled in between the flowers. I gently part them, and pull it out.

' _Roses for a Rose._

 _You helped bring light back into my world. I hope these will bring some light into your new home. Be happy, always._

 _Shadow.'_

Before I even reach the end of his message, my vision is blurring and I'm crying all over again and I don't even know why this time. But right now, happiness seems as impossibly bright as the sun and just as far away, too.

I crawl into bed, pull the covers over my head and wonder when the hell I'll ever grow up.

* * *

"Just text him back, Amy."

"No."

"He's obviously thinking about you."

"I don't care. I'm just about done with thinking about him, Cream."

" _Amy_ , you practically spent your whole birthday crying over him…"

"Exactly. I think I deserve a break from that," I say sharply, placing the rolling pin on the counter. I honestly try not to slam it, but Cream still jumps at the noise it makes. I quickly apologise. "Sorry, I'm not mad at you."

"I know. But you're mad at Sonic."

"And what if I am?" I shrug, trying to appear to care less than I actually do.

I begin separating the dough that I've just rolled, slicing down in sections, each about the width of my hand. When I first started working at the bakery, it would take me about two minutes to slice off each row; now it takes fifteen seconds at most and requires barely any thought, which is helpful, since I don't really feel much up to thinking at the moment.

I've spent the entirety of my weekend avoiding Sonic. Well, that's a lie. Actually, I've spent half of my weekend avoiding Sonic, and the other half arguing with myself over it. Hell, it feels like I've been waiting my whole life for some sort of grand, romantic gesture from Sonic and now that it's happened, I don't have the faintest clue what I should do with it. I used to swoon with daydreams of Sonic giving me flowers, and now that he's gone and covered by balcony with the stupid things, what do I do? That's right – I keep the curtains shut tight all weekend because it don't like the way I feel when I look at them. And how do they make me feel, you ask?

Nothing.

That's the worst part.

"He's not used to you being like this. I think he's worried about you," Cream says again after a few moments of silent, irritable slicing of dough on my part. She's shrugging on her jacket and getting ready to leave the bakery for the night. She only lives across the road, but it's a chilly spring night and she's always been a sensible girl.

"Well he shouldn't be. I'm a big girl now, Cream," I say, my voice surprising me by sounding much more certain of the fact than I actually feel. But hey, maybe if I can fool other people into thinking it, maybe I can fool myself, too. Maybe that's how everybody grows up – they just keep pretending until everyone else believes it. "I can take care of myself."

"I know," Cream smiles. It's the same kind, indulging smile that her mom Vanilla always wears. She zips up her cute, little, yellow jacket and turns to leave. I finish separating the dough and begin rummaging around for the cellophane and, before I know it, Cream's face is peeking around the side of the doorframe again, her ears swaying around loosely. "You know you're always welcome to stay the night, right Amy? It is pretty late, now."

Her concern makes me laugh. "I'm fine, Cream," I insist, smiling. "There's only another two batches to lay out and let rise, then I can head home too. It won't take that long."

"…Yeah, but, it's still late -"

"I know - go, go!" I insist, laughing and making shooing motions. She's always the same whenever my late shift rolls around – worry worry, fuss fuss. "You have school in the morning and I don't. I'll be fine. Like I said, I'm a big girl, I -"

"You can look after yourself. Yeah, I know," she copies, rolling her eyes daintily. Then she giggles and leaves, wishing me goodnight on the way. Then I'm left in silence.

When the sections of dough I cut for for the sweet-buns are all rolled up, wrapped up and set to the side, I take the batch of seed-loaf mix away from the mixer and begin measuring out flour, eggs and other things to make another load of basic white dough - it's very versatile and used for loads of different things, from normal rolls to buns, sweet-bread, small loaves and large. While all of this is in the mixer, I begin separating out chunks of seed-loaf mix.

I love working the late shift. There's just something really therapeutic about having the space to myself and doing some good, simple, honest work. When I'm here - I'm happy. And, even though the mixer is noisy, and even though the kitchen is hot, and even though my arms get tired towards the end, I always get the chance to think without any interruptions.

Or at least, I would if my stupid phone would stop buzzing.

"Argh, just leave me alone," I whisper to no one in particular as it buzzes again. It's about another five or ten minutes before the seed-loaves are separated and set to rise, and my hands are free to read the messages. And, of course, it's Sonic. I don't know what else I expected.

' _ **Hey ames, buzzing ur doorbell but no answer. U out?'**_

' _ **Cream said ur working late 2nite – want me to come walk u home?'**_

 _ **'Ames?'**_

' _ **U ok?'**_

I sigh and roll my eyes, with the vague feeling that there had been a massive role reversal between us on Friday night. Now Sonic was the one pestering me and _I_ was the one dodging him. But until I figure out how exactly I feel about him, I will continue doing just that. I hastily punch in a reply.

' _I'm fine, just busy. Almost done tho. :)'_

' _ **Walk?'**_

' _You never walk anywhere!'_

'… _ **r u challenging me?'**_

' _?'_

' _ **Cuz u know me ames, I never back down from a challenge'**_

' _*sigh* I'm a big girl Sonic, I'll catch the bus.'_

I hastily add in a _'lol'_ and another smiley face because that last text sounded a bit meaner than I'd meant it to, and then bury my phone back into my jacket pocket and try to finish up as quickly as I can. The last bus passes by here at 12:34. With a glance at the clock, I realise that I need to leave within twenty minutes to make it. So I scrub down the counters and sweep the floor while waiting for the last batch of white dough to finish in the mixer.

Twenty minutes later, I'm fumbling around with the bakery keys, locking up as quickly as I can, then I'm sprinting down the street. I think I've got time, I should – "Aw, shoot!" I cry as I turn the corner and see the bus leaving the station. It's too far away now, even if I run I won't make it. Darn. If only Cream hadn't kept me talking, or I hadn't spent that time texting Sonic…

Well, whatever, Amy. The bus is gone now. Just deal with it.

Briefly, I consider knocking on Vanilla and Cream's door. She _did_ say that I was always welcome to stay. But then I quickly decide not to. It's already past midnight and Vanilla will be at the bakery from four am to load the rolls into the ovens. I don't want to wake her.

I zip up my jacket, pull out my phone and open up my maps app, figuring out the closest route to walk back to my apartment. I've only ever gotten the bus to and from the bakery before and I know _that_ route fairly well now, but it'll take me at least forty or fifty minutes to walk it. There has to be a quicker way. I poke in my address to the route finder, pick the straightest looking route it gives me and start walking.

Station Square is quite peaceful at night. Pretty, almost. I mean, yeah, it's still a big city with boring high-rises and tall tower blocks, but in the dark – with all the lights on – it's nice and twinkly. I pass a couple of restaurants on my way that are still open for all the night owls who might be up for wining and dining at this hour. Lights flash and music blares out from the doorways of what I assume are bars and clubs. I pass a young couple – a tall, dark echidna, like Knuckles, and his wolf girlfriend, I assume – and they're arguing. She's accusing him of watching other girls all night, poking him in the chest and spilling her drink, and she drunkenly points me out, yelling, _'I bet you think she's prettier than me, too!'_ The echidna laughs good-naturedly and assures her that he doesn't, but silently mouths an apology to me as I pass. Of course, she sees him and she gets madder. I have to pretend to cough to hide the fact that I'm laughing.

Five minutes later and laughing is the last thing on my mind as my phone decides to lead me down an alleyway. I hesitate at the mouth of it, not really sure that I want to go in or not. It looks shady, and not just because it's late and dark. There's some… interesting music floating out of one of the apartments. Trash litters the floor, there's graffiti on the walls and one of the windows is smashed in. It smells funny, too. Before I know it, my imagination is running away with itself.

I consider the map route on my phone again and wonder if I can't take another path instead and skip this alleyway, but all the street names around here mean nothing to me – I don't know this part of town. Well, it seems quiet… and it doesn't look like anyone else is around. Should be fine.

I hurry down the alleyway, my footsteps slapping against the hard, crooked paving-stones. I try to ignore the fact that the echo of my steps bouncing off the walls makes it sound like I'm being followed. I also try to ignore my eyes as they try and trick me into thinking I can see things moving around in the shadows. I don't need my stupid imagination to feed my paranoia. But even so… I maintain a steady grip on the chaos currents in the air, just in case I need my hammer. A girl can never be too careful, after all.

Down one narrow street and into another, and it only gets worse. Now I can hear the sounds of a beat up stereo and voices in the distance, some shouting, some laughing or joking around. At one point I hear something loud and metallic, like an iron rod hitting a wall or something. I keep consulting my phone, making sure that I'm still on the right path. This really doesn't look like the kind of area that I'd like to get lost in.

According to my phone, I need to take the next right, then the left after that and _another_ left at the end, and I should find myself back on a main road. At least, it looks like a main road. Truthfully, any street which is better lit than this dingy side one will be a very welcome relief. However, as I turn around the corner, I realize that the laughing voices I heard before are right here, just around the bend, a lot closer than I'd imagined, right on the other side of the road where I need to be when I cross over. Great. There are four of them, one is particularly large and bulky and they blend into their rough, grimy surroundings perfectly. I think one of them notices me as I continue down the street; he nudges the smallest of the group who then looks my way. Some of them chortle.

"You alright there, sweet-cheeks?" one of them jibes loudly across the road. "You look a little lost."

I continue walking and quicken my pace, pretending not to notice them.

"Can show you aroun', if you like…" another suggests, leering at me.

"No thanks," I say shortly as I step onto their side of the street, sounding braver than I feel. In their defence, they do step aside to allow me room as I pass. But then I notice the way they're looking at me. I try not to think about how gross and dirty it makes me feel.

It seems like it takes forever for me to reach the corner where I take the next left. But as I do, their voices begin to fade and my heart stops pounding quite so fast. Why is it that I can face off against crazy-scientists and global, alien threats without hesitation, but a group of guys down an alleyway scares me so much that I forget to breathe properly? I sigh and realise that it's probably because whenever I've faced those threats, there's always been someone else to watch my back – like Tails or Knuckles… or Sonic. Maybe I should have taken him up on the offer to walk me home. I'd definitely feel safer with him around.

And… maybe I've been too hard on him. I know I was so upset that he didn't turn up on Friday but… maybe I've only got myself to blame? Maybe, over the years, I've just made it my business to expect too much from him that I forgot to see the bigger picture. I've always expected him to act like my boyfriend when he isn't, and treat me like a girlfriend when I'm not. But now that I think about it, I really haven't been fair. Because Sonic has _always_ been a good friend, and he's never let me down. Not when it mattered.

I'm on the verge of calling him on my cell when the sound of a can being kicked and then tumbling against the sidewalk snaps me out of my train of thought. Glancing over my shoulder at the noise, my heart sinks to see two figures following me, about ten metres away. I'm sure they're the same guys - a skunk and a bulky, rough looking hawk. I definitely recognise the bulky one. Damnit, why are they walking so quietly and creepily? What do they want? A little voice in the back of my head tells me that it's probably not my purse or my phone…

Speeding up the pace, I approach the end of the street and see the other two guys standing there, just on the left side of the street, exactly where my phone told me to go. Great. Well, whatever the hell is going on here, I immediately decide to turn right instead and hopefully avoid it.

" _There_ you are, what took you so long?"

It takes me a moment for me to realise that he's not talking to me, but over me.

"Scratch left his lighter at the bar, fuckin' dumbass," one of them behind me shouts. Then the other two – a mean looking weasel and a rat - at the end of the street have come forward, and they're blocking my way completely. Right or left, it's all the same now, I have to pass them.

"Excuse me, please," I say stiffly, my eyes darting nervously between them both. I'm still maintaining a grip on the chaos currents but I really hope I don't have to use them. I'm sure I can put up a fight against these guys if they cause trouble but it's late, and I'm tired _and_ outnumbered.

"Ain't you thinking of sticking around, toots?" grins the weasel. He's grey and scruffy and he smells like a sticky, putrid kind of sweetness.

"Please, leave me alone. I don't want any trouble."

"Don't be like that, sugar," says one of the guys behind me, and his voice is disturbingly close to my ear. From the corner of my eye I realise it's the hawk – the big one – and in a knee-jerk reaction I back away, right into the broad, solid chest of his skunk friend. "What trouble would we wanna cause to a pretty little thing like you, eh?"

"Get _away_ from me!" I shout. I mean to shout, but in a cruel twist of fate the adrenaline coursing through me hasn't made me braver but instead heightened my fear, and the words are little more than a frightened squeak.

"Pretty things are in short supply down here, sweet-cheeks…" says the rat, sauntering up to me. One moment, his nasty little hand is reaching up towards my chin and he's pulling my face to look at him – the next moment he's launched sideways and into the neighbouring building. With all the noise of the thud and the crunch and crumble of bricks, I'm not sure if it's the wall that's broken, or him. And I'm a little too preoccupied to care right now.

"Wh – the _FUCK_?"

" _FLINT!"_

"I _told_ you – stay away from me!" I warn them, and my voice is much bigger now. With the rush of chaos I borrowed to manifest my hammer, I'm feeling much braver. In my grip, the hammer is a reassuring weight; it glows gently in the darkness of the street, warming my hands.

The skunk has rushed over to his rat-friend and is looking at me warily now, but the other two have started laughing. The weasel in particular looks menacing, there's no kindness in those fangs of his. "That was a big mistake, little girl," he hisses.

Suddenly he's jumping forwards and out of nowhere there's a knife in his hands. The hawk takes to the skies faster than should be allowed, considering his huge frame. For a few moments all I know is the split-second instinct it takes to swipe with my hammer, to dodge a blow, to spin and turn and duck out of the way. Half an hour ago I was kneading dough – now I'm fighting for my life! I should have just slept on the bakery floor! The hawk makes another dive, trying to knock me off balance with the force of his wings – this time he's managed it. I trip on a loose paving slab and don't manage to fully dodge the weasel's next slash. I cry out with pain as the blade glances across my arm, tearing both my jacket and the flesh underneath.

But I'm starting to learn how they move. They're working together and so far, the hawk has always struck first. I decide to take the risk to tear my eyes away from the weasel and his stupid knife and focus my gaze on the hawk instead. He's swooping down again now, gathering speed. I make sure I'm standing firmly on the ground, grip my hammer tightly, prepare to swing and –

"Kwaaugghhhh–!"

 _Bullseye!_ I clock him right in the face and he's sent spiraling to the ground. Serves him right! I'm just about to turn around and cockily ask the other one if he wants some of my hammer, too, but the words don't make it out of my mouth.

Something incredibly large, and hard – and dense, by the sound of it – hits me around the back of the head. I cry out again as I fall to the ground. The pain is incredible. I feel sick. My vision has gone slightly dark and wobbly and I'm seeing stars in the corners of my eyes. And there, lying on the ground just out of reach, is my hammer.

I quickly force myself to stumble forwards, my hands and knees scraping painfully against the concrete and broken glass, reaching out to grab the handle of my hammer. But just as my fingers close weakly around it, I see a boot push down on the side of it, pinning it to the ground. My shaky arms pull desperately at the handle, but it doesn't budge an inch. I look up.

The skunk is standing beside me now, carrying a two-foot long metal rod in his hands. I can't believe I forgot about him. And the hawk is also stalking forwards, one of his eyes is swollen shut, his beak cracked at the corner, bleeding, and his feathers ruffled. He looks meaner than before and, considering the blow I dealt him with the hammer, he's probably precisely as tough as he looks, too. The mean-looking weasel with the fangs is the one who's standing on my hammer. He's smirking cruelly and the expression on his face tells me that, whatever he's about to do, he's going to enjoy it very much. But I only vaguely register these facts, because I'm pretty distracted by what the weasel is holding in his hands. It's about two inches away from my face, and it will probably be the death of me.

For the first, and quite possibly the last time in my life, I am looking down the barrel of a gun.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Hey guys! Well I'm back with chapter two and unfortunately, it seems Amy is in a bit of a predicament! Yes, I'm mean and I have a thing for cliffhangers - not sorry! :p_

 _Just btw, I wanna know what pairings you guys are shipping/hoping for. I've already got the main plot-points for this story planned out, so Amy's main 'love interest' is already decided, but I can weave in hints of other possibilities along the way no problem. ;)_

 _Also, loads of thanks to everyone who faved and followed, and to **SpeedsMyGame** , **FireWitch25** , **The Mystery Unknown** and **Amegakure Angel** for your lovely reviews, they did indeed make me smile. I'm glad you're enjoying the story so far!_

 _Hope you've all had a great weekend. Peace and love!_

 _~ Indie x_

* * *

 _ **PS:** Slapped a new story cover image on - it's not mine. Credit goes to whoever on deviantart drew it like 9 years ago then deleted their account. Search for 'Amy Rose 05' and it'll be the first one to pop up. All I did was slap a bit of colour on it._

* * *

 _ **PPS:** I hate typos, but always end up missing them in my own stories because my brain knows what should be written and so ignores everything that is. If you notice anything wrong (besides the American/British spelling differences, obviously we in the UK are doing everything right ;P), please let me know and I'll fix it! :3_


	3. A Green Autumn Day

**Chapter Three: A Green Autumn Day**

"On your feet, now – and no more funny business with this _fucking_ _hammer_ ," the weasel hisses at me through bared, yellowing fangs. His voice is nothing more than a whisper and I barely hear it over the frantic pounding of my heart and the ringing in my ears.

"…I, please -" I begin to stutter dumbly, but my voice dies instantly in my throat. Besides, I have no idea what to say anyway. If there's a guidebook somewhere for general negotiation rules whilst being held at gunpoint, I think I missed it.

He leans forward and closes the gap between us. Rancid breath brushes over my face and I suddenly feel something cold press up below my chin. There's a pull in my stomach as I realise it's the gun. He nudges my face up to look at his and, bizarrely, the only thing I notice is a long, silvery scar leading through his matted, purple fur across his eye – an eye which is eerily milky - wounded? Blind?

Then I hear a click and forget everything.

"I won't ask again."

Through the spinning of my head and the shakiness of my arms, my focus on the chaos currents fails. My hammer dissipates and suddenly all I'm grasping is empty air. The weasel doesn't even lose his footing or anything.

"There's a good girl," he smirks cruelly as I slowly begin to rise to my feet.

My eyes dart around the alleyway nervously, weighing up my options. I could try and manifest my hammer again but I shiver, realising that the bullet would probably be on the other side of my face before I could even manage to swing it.

I find myself trying to remember every scrap of self-defense I was ever taught. Knuckles tried to teach me how to throw a punch, once; I dislocated _my_ knuckles testing it out on him. Still, a hand thrust up into the chin to daze him – or the nose, and hopefully shove it right through into his brain – could I manage that before he pulled the trigger? Could I maybe poke his eyes out? There was also the typical stomp on the foot and knee to the groin, but even without the gun in my face that still left the other two to worry about. Shadow once offered to teach me how to disarm at close quarters… I laughed and waved him off, thinking only soldiers and super-spies like him would ever need to know something like that. Stupid, stupid girl.

Then suddenly there's a rough hand clasped tight around my throat and I'm thrown up against the wall. My still-tender head bashes against the hard stone and stars swim around my vision again. I immediately do the only thing I can think of and make as much noise as possible because holy hell I will not go down quietly and if someone – anyone – can hear my struggle then all the better. There _has_ to be someone that will help.

"Squeal all you like, toots," the weasel drawls cruelly over my screaming, "ain't no one gonna help you here."

"Get – _off_ me!" I flail my limbs as best as I can and kick out wildly. I bite the hand that tries to cover my mouth and get back-handed around the face in return. The weasel is still laughing. I'm still screaming.

"Er… boss?" the skunk called Scratch interrupts nervously, but I'm too busy struggling and the weasel is too busy enjoying himself to notice.

"You've got some fight in ya, I'll give you that," he laughs, looking at me as though he's appraising a piece of meat. "Maybe I'll hand you over to Shatters personally. He'll enjoy _beatin_ it out of ya."

"Go to hell," I growl and spit in his bad eye, just for good measure. He doesn't like that. His face contorts before he hits me again and throws me to the floor.

" _Boss?!"_

" _What, Scratch?"_ the weasel growls irritably, looking around. He swears violently under his breath and that's when I look up, too, and gasp. It can't be.

"…Sonic?" I whisper, winded and breathless, staring at the figure at the end of the alleyway.

But… no. It can't be Sonic.

Leaning lazily against the wall at the end of the alley is a hedgehog. Though he's stood in partial shadow I can just about make out one hand easily resting in the pocket of his jacket. The other holds a cigarette from which a silky trail of smoke spirals through the air. He releases a smoky breath before inclining his head to the side, presumably towards us. When he speaks, he doesn't raise his voice, but it carries through the night nonetheless. "…The _fuck_ I tell you n' your boys about makin' a mess on my streets, Fang?"

 _Definitely_ not Sonic.

"… _You said he was outa town, t'night, Scratch -"_

" _Yeah, that's what Flint told me -"_

" _Well 'e was wrong! What the fuck are we gonna do now -"_

"Will you two goddamn idiots shut ya _goddamn mouths_?!" Fang the Weasel bellows at his 'boys'. I scramble away as he steps over me and turns to the hedgehog. "No one tells _me_ what to do – not even you, Scourge."

Without a care, the hedgehog named Scourge flicks the butt of his cigarette onto the ground. In the dim light, I see a sharp grin spread slowly across his green face. "Wrong answer."

Fang laughs and readies his gun, pointing it directly at the hedgehog who confidently swaggers forwards. "Hah. Even _you_ ain't faster than a bullet," the weasel taunts.

Suddenly, Scourge throws out the hand from his pocket and a silver blade sings through the air just as Fang pulls the trigger. There's a high-pitched chink of metal against metal, an ear-splitting bang and a cry of surprise from Fang. Within the same second, I see the bullet whiz through the air, mere inches over the hedgehog's quills, while the gun arcs gracelessly through the air and clatters noisily to the ground; the knife he threw lands inches from my knees. Amazingly, the blade stands upright, embedded into the concrete. It's quivering and humming, almost glowing with - is that chaos energy?

Before I have the chance to notice anything else, the fight breaks out right on top of me. It's all I can do to try and scramble away, out of harm's reach. But in my dazed and injured state I'm just not fast enough. I see the large foot stomp on my ankle before I feel it. And then I _do_ feel it and - holy hell - it's fire and ice and more fire still. A cry of agony escapes my lips and I drag myself towards the side of the alley. It hurts to even move my right ankle now but I plan on standing anyway - much less surface area to get stepped on again, I figure. I just hope it isn't broken. Using the wall as leverage I shakily pull myself up and am surprised how much the action hurts my left arm. I look down and almost gag when I see the blood still oozing from the gash, dripping through my clothes and down onto the concrete. A hand to the back of my head tells me that's bleeding too. Great.

Groggily, my eyes follow the trail of my own blood towards the fight, just in time for me to see the hedgehog called Scourge throw the squirrel head-first against the wall and through a neighbouring window. Then he turns around and perfectly dodges a dive from the hawk before directing a blow of his own at Fang, who now has his knife back out and is swinging furiously. None of the hedgehog's movements are wasted; he shifts only as much as is necessary to dodge and any counters he makes are swift and precise - something he demonstrates perfectly as the hawk makes another dive. Scourge catches him by the wing and uses his momentum to send him violently rocketing headlong into the wall with a sickening crunch. This time, he doesn't get back up.

Now Fang is the only one left standing. His eyes dart nervously between Scourge and the pistol lying on the ground. Scourge grins cruelly and kicks it to the side, far out of reach. "Not so brave without your little toys, eh Fang?"

Fang readies his knife again, but this time taking a defensive stance. "Now Scourge, I didn't come here for trouble."

"You shouldn'ta come here at all," Scourge replies angrily. "Thought you'd've known better, after last time."

I see Fang's bad eye twitch with rage and suddenly have a vague idea what - or rather, who - might have happened to it. "You like ta think you're a real big deal, don'cha? Shatters ain't gonna be pleased when he hears about this," he spits, pointing at the crumpled form of the hawk several meters away.

Quicker than blinking, Scourge is nose-to-nose with the weasel, twisting the blade out of his hands which falls to the ground. "You fuckin' dare threaten me?" he hisses, grabbing Fang by the collar and throwing him up against the wall opposite me. "Did Shatters send you?" The weasel's makes a squirming, incoherent response, which Scourge ignores. He grabs Fang by the throat and continues. "There's a reason my old buddy Shatters sticks to the streets of Westopolis, and one a these days, you're gonna learn that _reason_ is _me_."

The next minute, Fang's been thrown half-way down the alley and Scourge is shouting at him. "You tell Shatters from me that I'ma be payin' him a visit soon," he orders, emanating a silent rage. "Oh, an' one more thing," he calls to Fang's retreating form, which freezes but doesn't look around. "I catch you fuckin' around in my city again, I'm takin' ya other eye. Got it?"

Besides some angry, distant muttering, Fang gives no indication that he'd heard as he stalks away. I suddenly find it a little easier to breathe once that he's out of sight, but now I'm left alone with the green hedgehog and, even though he fought the other guys off, that doesn't necessarily mean _I'm_ any better off. The look in his cold, blue eyes alone tell me he's tough, and the scars across his chest prove that he's survived his share of fights. It's only when he turns his head and glares down at me that I realise I've been staring.

"…Can you stand? 'Cause I ain't carryin' your ass anywhere," he states bluntly and without sympathy, pocketing his knife.

How rude. Judging by his appearance, though, I suppose I shouldn't be too surprised.

Then I look around myself, confused. At some point I'd slipped back down to the ground without realising. I huff at him, not wanting to seem weak. A small voice in the back of my head tells me that this is pointless, because look at me. I shake my head and ignore it. "Of course I can stand," I mutter tiredly, using the wall as leverage again. Still leaning against it, I search the ground for my purse and find it just a couple of meters away. Scourge watches me with some amusement as I shuffle across the wall and stoop down to grab it. The whole time I am stubbornly trying not to put weight on my right foot or gasp with pain whenever I do.

"Hey, do I know you?"

"Hmm?" I tone, stopping the search through my purse to look at him.

"Ya look familiar," he says, giving me a searching look through cold eyes. "Have we boned before?"

My mouth falls open with shock. How… disgusting! "Have we... wh- what kind of question is that, you _creep!?"_ I cry, looking away from him with the sheer embarrassment of it. That doesn't stop me from hearing his laugh, though.

"Thought it was a pretty obvious question, babe," he grinned roguishly.

"I'm not your _babe_ ," I growl, searching around my bag again for my cell-phone. The sooner I'm away from this guy, the better.

"Pity," he smirks, looking me up and down. Then he clicks his fingers and begins to step towards me. "No, wait – I have seen you before -"

"I doubt that," I retort, finally finding my cell-phone and scanning the screen. Oops. I have enough time to register about a million missed calls from Sonic before Scourge is talking again, distracting me.

"You're that crazy chick who's always runnin' around after that fuckin' busybody, Sonic," he says accusingly, ignoring my interruption. "Yeah, you are. What's ya name, again… Annie, or Rosie, or -"

"Amy. Amy Rose," I correct automatically, glaring sideways at him below my lashes. "And I do not _always_ _run_ _around_ after Sonic," I add, bitterly. Not anymore. And look at all the good that's done me tonight...

"Well, you could'a fooled me. Hey – hey, where you think you're going?" he scoffs, throwing his arms to the side laughing roughly as I turn away from him and start hobbling away.

I sigh. Frankly, I've had enough trouble for one night. All the pain and stress and probably blood-loss has made me care so much less about… well, everything. Some rational part of my head tells me that this is dangerous. The rest of me, however, just wants to crawl into bed and stay there for the rest of my life. "I'm going home," I say, wincing as I accidentally lean too much on the wrong foot.

"And you're goin' _that_ _way_?" he asks. The amusement is clear in his voice and it makes me really angry. I'm grateful that he took care of the other guys, really, but if he's not going to help me get home, he could at least just leave me alone instead of taunting me.

"It's a short cut," I reply, not bothering to keep the impatience out of my voice.

"Heh. You go down that street, chances are you gonna get a lot more than just a short _cut_ , if you catch my meanin'," he calls, smirking.

I sigh tiredly and stop walking altogether. I'm suddenly finding it hard to keep my eyes open at all, let alone continue moving or formulate any kind of reply. The next thing I know I'm on the ground again and tears are rolling silently down my cheeks. I'm cold. The world is still spinning slightly. I'm still bleeding. Everything hurts.

"Are you… _crying_?" Scourge asks, a trace of both horror and disgust in his voice as he crouches before me.

"You don't need… to tell me how pathetic… I am," I whimper, feeling thoroughly sorry for myself. I don't even bother looking up at him. "I already know."

"Jeez, dames these days," he mutters, but not unkindly. "Can't even take a hit."

"Actually, I took at least thr -" I start, his dismissive tone riling something in me. But then I finally look at him and, up close, I see the torn state of his gloves, and the gashes that line the skin beneath as well as his cheek. There's a darkening patch above his brow. "He got you too," I say dumbly.

Scourge looks at me as though I've offended him. "Pft, hardly. Jus' a couple scratches."

My lip quivers. "I'm sorry," I whisper. "It's all my fault!" I am exhausted, and his injuries, on top of everything else that has happened, seem to be the straw that breaks the camel's back. If I had the energy to, I'm sure I'd be bawling loudly enough for all the block to hear. As it is, I simply cover my face and weep pathetically.

Scourge groans and cusses under his breath. For a few moments he simply stares at me apprehensively, curiously, then speculatively, as though I'm some sort of intriguing maths problem. Then he seems to come to a decision. "'Right, hand it over," he grunts, gesturing at me with his hand, palm up.

"Hand… what?" I ask stupidly. I'm tired and hurting, and between the two I'm not understanding anything.

Scourge rolls his eyes and snatches the phone from my loose grip. He spares a second to take in the route before getting to his feet, grabbing my (thankfully good) arm and yanking me to my feet too.

"Ouch!" I moan as I lose balance and step on the bad ankle again; to say that it throbs painfully would be an understatement.

"Look, If you're gonna whine like a priss the whole way, I'll just leave ya here," Scourge mutters condescendingly, roughly pulling my right arm to lean across his shoulders. He winds his other arm tightly across my waist and together we begin making our way to the end of the alley. A couple of turns later and we're out on a wide avenue that I recognise from the bus route and sigh with relief. I'm not as far from home as I thought.

Scourge isn't slow – or gentle, for that matter – but he's careful enough to carry most of my weight. I try and match his pace, but thanks to him, my feet hardly touch the ground the entire time. Once or twice he checks my phone, but mostly his steps are sure and firm. Sometimes, the fatigue overcomes me and my eyes close against my will. Each time they open, I find myself one street closer to home.

"Your name's Scourge… right?" I say blearily, looking up at him. I'm slightly concerned at how much effort it takes to put the words together, but at the same time I'm not worried in the slightest. This stranger might be rough around edges, but he saved my life when he had no obligation to. I owe him for that, at least.

"That's right," he grunts in reply. My eyes fly open at the sound of his reply. I don't remember closing them. I don't even remember what I asked him. There's a cocky smile on his lips and he scratches his nose in an off-hand way that reminds me of Sonic. The gesture makes me smile.

"I just remembered that… I didn't say thank-you… yet," I say quietly through heavy eyes that threaten to close again.

"For what?"

I laugh weakly at his surprised tone. "Duh. Saving me," I clarify.

Now it's Scourge's turn to laugh. "Hah! Don't flatter yourself, doll-face," he mocks with a side-ways grin, though it isn't entirely unkind. But maybe that's just my exhausted haze, clouding reality. "I'll take any opportunity to get one over on old Fang, trus' me."

"..I do," I murmur blearily, not quite noticing the way my words stop his steps. Regardless, by the time he recovers and is walking – dragging me – again, my eyes are closing, and the street disappears.

* * *

 _Jeez-Louise, Ames, where did you go?_

I complete yet another lap around her block at break-neck speed, frantically trying to find some trace of Amy whose bus rolled past the apartment over thirty minutes ago, and she wasn't on it. She wasn't back at the bakery, or at Cream's house. I try her cell again, but there's still no answer. It's nearly two am. This isn't like her.

 _Damnit, Amy. Please be okay._

I wouldn't usually be so worried. Amy's a strong girl and she can take care of herself – she's proven that more than once. But it's just not like her to ignore me like this. I know she's still mad about Friday. Well, at least, I think she is. But she's not unreasonable. Well… I suppose sometimes - I shake my head. I concentrate on running, swinging my head from left to right to search the side-streets as I go, hoping to catch a glimpse of pink and trying to ignore the nervous knot twisting around in my stomach. Something doesn't feel right.

I'm so distracted that I almost trip over the feathery, unconscious lump on the floor – I only barely manage to lift my foot in time before continuing on my way. Whatever the lump is, it's not pink, so it's not Amy, so I'm not interested right now. But then something in that alley pulls my interest and I skid to a halt. I deliberate for a second – what if Amy's in trouble? But then I go back to investigate. Whatever it is, there's something… familiar. Something off.

There are, in total, two – no, three – unconscious bodies. I almost missed the one embedded in the wall, nearly twenty feet above ground. What the hell happened here? I take in the rough appearance of the casualties, the broken window, the smell of… blood – a gang fight? Or just an isolated incident? The back alleys of Station Square weren't exactly crime free – but that was true of _all_ big cities, and most of it was petty crime, anyway. No-one's dead. This is nothing the cops can't handle.

Speaking of which, my ear twitches as the sound of a siren followed by flashing lights comes around the corner. I shrug, figuring that the police can take care of it themselves. But then suddenly it hits me – I know what's 'off' about the alley. The chaos currents, they're all jumpy and hyped up, like…

Amy conjured her hammer here.

Before I've even realised it I'm sprinting through the streets again, panicking. Amy _was_ there – as soon as I stopped to recognise it, her signature jumped out at me – but where is she _now?_ And there was another signature there too – more subdued – but one I'm _sure_ I should know. I wish I could follow them. _Damnit_. Knuckles has always been better at tracking chaos signatures that I am and – fool that I am – I never thought I'd needed to learn. It's not like anyone can outrun me. I double around Amy's apartment again, not really seeing where I'm going, puzzling on the identity of the second signature. I'm sure I know who it belongs to but I just can't bring it to mind.

That's when I turn the corner and see them both. Time both speeds up immeasurably _and_ freezes to a complete stop. For a split second I see everything: Amy's feet dragging across the ground; her swollen ankle; the frightening, heavy way her head sways with each step; her torn jacket and bloodstained arm; the _other_ arm around her waist, belonging to probably the last person I ever want to see her with. Within the same second, I'm right in front of them. The wind of my approach swirls the long tendrils of Amy's fine, hair-like quills about her face, but she doesn't seem to notice.

"What the _hell_ did you _DO_ to her, Scourge?!" I shout, breaking the quiet of the night. I'm furious beyond words when he's not in the least startled by my approach. He even has the nerve to grin at me.

"Hah. It's nice t'see you too, bro," he mocks.

I'm about to bite back and angrily remind him _never_ to call me that when Amy stirs.

"Hmm… Sonic?"

My hands are fluttering around her in an instant, trying to pry her from Scourge's grip. "Amy – Amy what happened?" I ask tensely.

She's in a pretty bad way. Her eyes too distant, her voice too quiet. She mumbles deliriously about rats and knives, buses and guns and, when I do manage to pull her away from Scourge, she loses balance completely and cries out in pain – her ankle.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I say, readjusting her weight more carefully under my arm. Then I round on Scourge. "If I find out you've hurt her in any way, Scourge, I _swear_ -"

"Don't you threaten me," Scourge sneers, getting all up in my face, trying to provoke me. But his temper tantrums never scared me when we were kids, and they still don't. "You think if I hurt your little girlfriend, I'd be takin' her home afterwards?"

"Don't toy with me, Scourge," I yell.

"Or else what, huh?"

"Or else -"

"Sonic… leave him… alone," Amy pants quietly from beside me.

"…What?" I ask, staring down at her incredulously.

"Thought it… was you. First. But he… he rescued me," she reveals eventually, smiling weakly. "Be _nice_."

I'm distracted by the sound of his sleazy laughter. "Yeah, you tell 'im, doll-face," he grins, winking at her.

My imagination goes haywire. Drink, drugs, concussion – any other explanation to deny the truth of Amy's words, because they couldn't be true. My little brother didn't have a single, good bone in his whole body. He'd proved that plenty of times before. And if, for some reason, he ever did anything seemingly good, there was always, _always_ an ulterior motive.

" _I_ was your hero tonight, eh babe?"

"That's enough," I growl, disgusted with the implications he put behind the words. I step forward and the sound of Amy's delirious giggle is cut short when her weight falls on the swollen ankle again. This time she almost screams with agony.

" _Shit -_ Ames, I'm sorry!" I hastily apologise, wincing even though the pain isn't mine. Stupid. Selfish. I pick her up and quickly deposit her on the nearest sidewalk bench. If I was as good a friend as I thought I was, I would have seen to her injuries first. I would have made checking her over my first priority. All I did was waste time interrogating Scourge, instead.

I pull my chaos emerald out of my pocket and concentrate; it doesn't take a lot of effort to release the energy from the chaos emeralds – but it is tricky to control it. Some people just have a knack for manipulating chaos, like Shadow – or Amy – and others have to try, try and try again before they get the hang of it, like me. Then there are some who just never really get it, like Tails – but man is he a whiz with cheating and creating machines to access the emeralds anyway!

 _Anyway, Sonic, you need to focus._

I shake my head to clear it from distraction and take a deep breath. Slowly, purple emerald in my hands begins to glow, faintly at first, and then rapidly brighter and brighter. Soon enough, the light has enveloped us both. I force it to stop there and sift through the threads and currents of chaos, seeking out all the positive ones. It's not something I have to do a lot of when I access the chaos, so it takes me a while, but eventually I find them. Soothing, restoring, healing. Before my eyes, Amy's cuts and scrapes are growing lighter, closing, gone. The bruises fade and the swelling in her ankle shrinks. Then I release the breath I've been holding and the light disappears, not softly or gradually – instantly. Quicker than blinking.

"Feeling better, Ames?" I hedge, giving her a hopeful smile.

Her eyes slowly flutter open, but she has trouble keeping them that way. "Mm-hmm," she murmurs, softly. "Thanks, Sonic." Then her head lolls back again. She's exhausted.

I glance over my shoulder, wondering why that dear brother of mine is being so quiet for a change – but of course, he's nowhere to be seen. I had hoped to get a better idea of what happened tonight – I wanted to make whoever did this to Amy pay. But I guess it would have to wait.

"Come on then," I say, prodding Amy awake and lifting her off the bench. "Let's get you home. Can you stand?"

"Of _course_ I can stand." Amy stifles a laugh as though she's enjoying some sort of private joke. I shake my head, thinking it's the tiredness. She's never made much sense when she'd tired. Well, she doesn't make much sense to me most days, but still.

I half-escort, half-carry her the remaining thirty meters or so to her apartment. "So, what happened to you tonight, Ames?"

She sniffs, displeased. "I missed the bus."

"Well yeah, I figured that out, funnily enough," I mutter, rolling my eyes. "What happened next?"

"Ugh. This stinky rat and his creepy friends started following me. Tried to attack me. I managed to take one of them out with my hammer but… there were too many." My eyes narrow angrily as I feel Amy shiver beside me. So I was right about Amy summoning her hammer in that alley - I guess that explains the guy embedded into the wall. "Then one of them hit me on the back of the head and I fell. Fang, he… he pulled out a gun."

"What?!" I cry, outraged. I almost pull her front door off its hinges. If I had a fraction of Knuckle's strength, I probably would have. Who was this Fang guy, and how dare he threaten one of my friends. All I wanted to do now was go out there, find him, and –

"I thought I was going to die, Sonic." Amy sniffs again, only this time tears well up in the corners of her eyes.

My heart falls as I lead her through her apartment and sit her on the edge of her bed. "You're fine now, Amy," I promise, draping her favourite dressing gown over her shoulders. I wasn't there to help her when she needed it, but I'm here now. "You're safe with me." She shrinks into it, pulling it up to her chin, and nods slowly.

"… I wouldn't have got away if it wasn't for Scourge."

I blink at this news. "What?"

"He fought them off."

"What?" I repeat, dumbly. This is deeply concerning news and I don't think I believe a word of it.

"He saved me," she affirms. Smiling. But then her smile falters and another tear rolls down her cheek. She shakes her head sadly, murmuring something to herself under her breath. I can't make it out, but I think I catch the words 'pathetic' and 'save myself'. And then she yawns.

"You should sleep," I say, my eyes tight.

Amy nods in exhausted compliance and simply falls sideways. Her head hits the squishy pillow softly; I almost think that she was asleep before she landed. But as I watch her, her face grows puzzled and she cracks one questioning eye open. "You never told me you had a brother," she says thoughtfully.

I grimace and scratch my quills. "Heh, yeah, well. Scourge and I don't get along," I say shortly, putting more light into my voice than I feel.

I think Amy is trying to show me her disapproving face, but she yawns with absolute tiredness again, marring the expression. Her voice has a dreamy quality to it. "I think he's nice."

Thankfully, Amy's eyes are closed again, so she missed my expression of disgust. She's definitely concussed, I tell myself. "Hey, d'you want me to stay over tonight, make sure you're okay?" I ask lightly, trying to steer any and all thoughts away from that thuggish, poisonous, green –

"No, I'll be fine, thanks," Amy says peacefully, rolling over. "Scourge took care of them all."

I grit my teeth.

Fine. Looks like _I'm_ free to take care of _him_ , then.

* * *

"This is ridiculous. I still can't believe Sonic called you," I gripe, covering my face in shame.

"He just wanted to make sure you were okay, Amy," Cream tells me in a soothing voice, continuing to probe gently around my ankle. I did catch her rolling her eyes when she thought I wasn't looking, though.

"I _am_ okay. Really."

"Yeah. But it could have been worse."

"You can't blame us for being worried, sweetie," says Vanilla, stroking my hair in a motherly way as she walks past me towards the bakery-shop doors. As soon as she flips the sign over, the half-dozen people queuing outside gratefully come in. Thankfully, the goods on display and the smell of fresh-baked treats is so good that they hardly pay me any notice.

Sonic called by Cream's place first thing this morning to tell them what happened last night. Well, I suppose it was still this morning. Naturally, Vanilla closed the shop and excused Cream from school to come and check up on me. They panicked around me and fussed over me and cooked me breakfast, asking me every two minutes if I was okay. They offered to let me move in with them for a while - however long I needed. They rang the police to file a complaint and found out that not only Sonic had already done that, _he'd_ seen to it that the three guys in the alley were apprehended as well. Three, because Fang got away. Or rather, Scourge _let_ him get away. I still don't completely understand that.

I also don't understand why Sonic never told me he had a brother. A _brother!_ Like, how does something like that never just come up in conversation? We've known each other for, like, seven years, now – that's nearly half of my life! It's such a big secret to keep. And what's even more confusing is how much Sonic seemed to… to hate him. Yeah, I was _more_ than half-out of it by the time he found me in Scourge's arms, but I definitely didn't miss his tone of voice. It's pretty unnerving. Sonic doesn't hate anything – I don't even think he hates Eggman, and look at all the trouble _he's_ caused!

To make things worse, I can't even call Sonic and ask him about it, because I also lost my phone last night. All my contacts, pictures, music – gone! Although, I suppose I should be thankful it it's the only thing I lost last night…

"Okay, I think you're fine," Cream said brightly, springing to her feet. Being so quiet, calm, and reserved, I always forget just how bouncy she can be.

I smile widely, getting to my feet too, now that my ankle has finally been released - she didn't even spend half as much time checking my head. I eagerly make my way behind the counter, happy to finally start working. "Yeah, just like I said, Cree. I'm fine."

"Sonic did a better job than I expected," she said, openly praising him. She was genuinely impressed.

It was common knowledge that Cream was gifted in healing with chaos energy – I think it has something to do with her connection with Cheese, her Chao. But instead of needing an emerald, she can pull the currents right out of the air itself – kind of like I do with my hammer, only way more useful – and use them to restore things to their natural state. Even though Sonic did most of the work fixing me up last night, Cream smoothed over all the little scars and bruised, weakened muscles and tendons that he missed. Most people we know tend to overlook her skill, because it's not flashy or obviously powerful. But I disagree. It's a crazy-cool healing ability that she can use anywhere, anytime – because chaos is everywhere. Although, I still haven't figured out if she's healing, or _turning_ _back_ _time._ Once, I saw her un-burn toast, so it really makes me wonder.

"Er… hello? Earth to Amy?"

I blink, confused. "Er, sorry Cree, did you say something?"

She gives me a very sly smile that looks very out of place on her innocent face. "You went all googly-eyed there… day-dreaming about Sonic, again?"

I roll my eyes and swat my hand in her vague direction. "No. I was thinking about _you_ actually, and how awesome you are. You have to teach me that healing trick sometime." Cream openly blushes and hides her face, never comfortable in the spotlight of praise. I laugh while tying up my apron strings. "Anyway, what were you saying?"

"I was asking you about the guy who saved you," she repeats once she'd finished serving a customer, wide-eyed and curious. "You said he was Sonic's brother?"

"Yeah, apparently," I affirm absently, nodding my head while counting-out change. "Oooh, they're a new recipe, you'll have to tell me what you think – six-thirty-two change, enjoy!" I say, smiling brightly to the purple-parrot who just bought two cinnamon-custard puff-pies. I hope she likes them.

"I wonder why he's never mentioned him before," Cream ponders. Yeah, Cree, you're not the only one.

"Well, he said they don't get along," I say slowly, trying to remember the slightly blurred details of late last night. "And, from the way Sonic spoke to him, I'd say they _really_ don't get along."

"What was he like?"

"Umm," I stall thoughtfully. My version of events from last night was a little blurred and I'd already hit my head at least twice before he showed up, so I'm not entirely sure what I think of him. I don't remember him speaking to me very nicely. He spoke like just another street-thug, I think, and he definitely looked like one. However, he fought off those other guys _and_ he took me home. That had to count for something. But I don't suppose it matters much – I probably won't see him again, anyway. "Well, he looked a bit like Sonic, I guess. And he was strong and fast enough to fight three guys at once – one of whom had a gun. I owe him," I say, shrugging far more casually than I feel.

"Heh, stop talkin' bout me like I'm a hero, doll – you gonna make me blush."

I almost drop the plate I'm holding.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** So, so sorry - totally meant to have this written and ready for upload last Sunday but I just had such a crazy week. Anyway, here it is - hope you enjoy! As always, let me know what you think! :)_

 _~ Indie x_


	4. Something More

_**A/N:** Hey! Sorry the wait for this chapter was so long, but sometimes life just sorta hits you around the face and you get crazy busy. As always, thanks and shout-out to **AmegakureAngel** , **Wxnderland** , **Fairlyoddme** , **Blood tinted rain** and **hexxys** for reviewing the last chapter. I hope you all enjoy this next one, if you're still around the site to read it, lol._

 _Just an FYI in case it's not clear, we start off with Scourge's p.o.v._

* * *

 **Something More**

Bingo.

There she is standing behind the counter, just like I thought. I pocket the chick's phone, thanking whatever lucky stars aligned just right to let me get my revenge. Amy's picking out cakes and chattering away to her little rabbit friend, somehow not looking the slightest bit worse for wear – unlike myself.

Fucking blue hero.

If Sonic really thinks he can just barge back into my life and start throwing fists, telling me how to live it, then he's got another thing coming. I'm not scared of him. I ain't never been about following the rules, and I'm not about to start now just because he says so.

I take one last drag from my cigarette and cuss, catching sight of my reflection upon the window. A fresh bruise is starting to purple up around my left eye. Little fucker caught me by surprise once, but it ain't happening again.

 _You step one foot near Amy again, Scourge, and I'll make you regret it_ , he said. Waving his little Emerald around like a big shot and all.

There's only one person who'll be regretting it now…

As if I had any intention of seeking out Sonic's little girlfriend again anyhow! As if lil' Scourgey isn't already drowing in pussy down at the Clinks. I was well sorted to leave her the hell alone after taking her back. It was enough to just get one over on old Fang again, but now…

Well done, bro, but now you just went and made this personal. It's been a while since I had a new grudge to nurse. Should be fun, stringing it out, watching him squirm.

Just on cue, Amy turns to look up at a customer, smiling while picking out some kinda flowery little muffins and packing them in a paper bag. Her eyes have this way of sparkling in the light, and damn does she have a pretty little face. She ain't my type, not by a long shot. But she ain't hard to look at, and it's plain as day she's starving for a little attention.

I swing open the door and saunter lazily over to the counter. Amy's birdlike little voice carries over the chatter.

"Well, he said they don't get along," she was saying to the little rabbit between serving customers, frowning along with the words. "And, from the way Sonic spoke to him, I'd say they _really_ don't get along."

I snort. Yeah, you don't know the half of it, babes.

Her tiny rabbit friend's eyes open wide. "What is he like?" she asks in a whisper.

"Umm," Amy tones. I can see she's stalling. I linger just slightly away, waiting to catch her words. This should be good. "Well, he looked a bit like Sonic, I guess." I smother a cough, feeling insulted. He should be so lucky. "And he was strong and fast enough to fight off three guys at once – one of whom had a gun," she says eventually. Her voice softens then, and she gets a distant look in her eyes, shrugging, "I owe him."

I feel the grin slide wickedly across my face. "Hey, stop talkin' bout me like I'm a hero, doll – you gonna make me blush."

Amy's pretty little head snaps around to my direction, her green eyes wide and sparkling and, best of all, totally helpless. She gasps a little – I reckon I could get used to that sound – and almost drops the plate she's holding.

Perfect.

Sonic's out there, sweating his ass off that I'll steal his girl. I ain't stealing nothing. Amy's already done half the work for me. It'll be too easy.

She's gonna walk away from Sonic all by herself, and I can't wait to see the look in his face when she does.

* * *

"...Scourge!"

I gasp and fumble with the plate of coconutty cookies in my hands, almost dropping it and its contents a further three times before I regain proper balance.

"That's my name," he smirks lazily.

"...Scourge?" Cream repeats slowly, looking unconvinced, as though she can't quite reconcile the image of my hero with this green and slightly imposing figure before the counter. To be completely honest, I don't blame her. Seeing him here in the light of day, with his scrapes and scars and worn-out leather jacket… Now that my head isn't spinning anymore, the sight of him is enlightening. He's much rougher looking than I remember. There's another scrape across his jaw, and his eye is slightly purpled – details I don't quite remember from the night before. I find myself wondering if he got into another fight.

"Yeh, don't wear it out, toots," Scourge says, casting a sideways glance at Cream before his cool gaze returns to me. For a second, it's like lightning in my blood. He jerks his chin towards me. "You look better."

It takes me a few moments to kick my mind into gear. Breathe, Amy. Focus.

"Oh! I er…I - wh - what are you doing here?" I manage to stammer eventually, and not to mention somewhat breathlessly. Suddenly realising how ridiculous I must look, clear my throat and start again. "I… didn't think I'd see you again."

"Hah, well. That'd be a shame now, wouldn't it?" Scourge grins. He seems somewhat amused by my inability to focus. His eyes - oh gosh those eyes like _ice_ \- scrutinise every inch of me as he speaks. That doesn't do anything to help matters, either.

I feel a blush rise to my cheeks and find myself looking everywhere but at him.

"'Ere," he says, fishing into his pocket. A moment later, something clatters atop the counter.

"My phone!" I cry, forgetting my embarrassment for a moment and snatching it quickly to my chest. "I thought I'd lost it! Oh, thank you," I say, finally mustering up the courage to look him in the eye.

Scourge shrugs. "Guess tha' means you owe me twice now, doll-face," he says, half smirking, half leering.

It strikes me as strange, the way that look affects me. Last night, when it was on the face of those thugs on the street, it made my heart pound with dread and disgust. Now my heart is pounding again with something a little… different. Alien.

"I… guess it does," I reply, struggling once again for some semblance of thought.

I hear Cream clear her throat, somewhat obviously, and she elbows me in the side. "Well, we've just brought out a fresh batch of coconutty cookies," she interjects, pointing at the plate I'd cast aside when grabbing my phone. "And these cinnamon puff-pies are a new recipe. We can offer you some of whatever you want, on the house!"

Wincing a little and rubbing my ribs, my mind begins to catch up. "Yeah," I nod enthusiastically. "Yeah – free of charge, as thanks. See anything you like?"

Scourge's eyes roam dismissively across the goods on display for just a second before his cool gaze squares in on me again. "Maybe one or two things," he smirks after a pause.

Umm… well.

I really have no idea what to say after that, so naturally, I bumble on about the different cakes and pastries we have on display, tripping over my words all the while. His smirk grows wider. I grow more flustered.

Damnit Amy, get a grip.

It isn't until a few minutes later that Scourge is sat at one of the window booths with a plate full of sweet treats (including some of the coconutty cookies I almost threw at him when he surprised me at the counter), and yet several more minutes after that until I begin to recover from my flustered state. Serving customers helps to take my mind off matters, but still… I am intensely aware of his presence.

Every now and then when I look up, I catch him watching me.

Not once does he bother to look away when I do.

"You know, he's still looking at you…" Cream says, once I return from wiping down a table and collecting the mugs and plates there.

"Shush," I reply, trying, and failing, to ignore this information. As soon as I deposit the things into the sink out back, however, my traitor eyes betray me and peer around the door-frame, only to clash with his piercing blue orbs once more. Oh my gosh.

"It's starting to creep me out," Cream whispers, hiding the words behind her dainty hands.

"It's starting to creep _you_ out? How do you think _I_ feel, Cree?"

Cream shrugs, her deep-brown eyes wide and inquiring. "I don't know. How do you feel?"

I hold my breath before I speak.

How do I feel?

The phrase, like a _deer before the headlights_ comes to mind. Literally. Like, every time my eyes meet his, my whole body just freezes up. Not particularly useful when I'm trying to balance a stack of plates across the room, or serve customers at the till without short-changing them! Honestly, I'm surprised I haven't broken anything yet, including my own neck from the amount of times I've tripped over in the last twenty minutes alone.

What is Scourge doing here?

What does he want?

Why won't he leave?

And… how did he even find me?

"You know those wildlife documentaries," I begin slowly, in answer to Cream's question, "where you see the lion creeping through the grass, stalking its prey?"

She nods.

"I feel kind of like the prey."

"Scared?" Cream askes, solemnly. She peers back around at the booth by the window and shivers slightly.

"Yeah, a bit," I answer, biting my lip. If I'm honest, his gaze on the back of my neck is a bit scary, but also… exhilarating. However, I manage to refrain from admitting that much to Cream.

"We can call Sonic if you want. Or Knuckles," she suggests. "Maybe they can -"

"Oh, don't be silly Cree," I interject, waving my hands around. "They're probably really busy with other things. You know, like, important things. Besides, I'm sure Scourge has better things to do than sit here staring at me all day. He'll probably leave soon," I affirm, sounding much surer of it than I actually feel.

I walk back into the store-front, keeping my eyes firmly trained on the ground, the counter, the customers, anywhere but that booth by the window. It's a busy afternoon, especially since the shop-front was closed all morning, and we both have our hands full.

The bell above the door tinkles yet again, only this time, it's not a happy customer.

"Oh, hell no! You've gotta be _kidding_ me!"

Oh no. It's going to be a long day.

* * *

"Trust us, we're doing everything in our power to track him down."

I roll my eyes again. Yeah right, buddy. Everything in your power to keep sitting on your backside eating donuts all day.

"So then why haven't you found any leads yet?" I ask through gritted teeth, tapping my foot impatiently.

"Look, Sonic," the rounded officer sighs again through a mouthful, waving the remains of his frosted donut around. Somehow, I manage to resist the urge to grab it and chuck it out of the open window. "All our sources point to this Fang character having got on late train out of Central and over to Westopolis. We appreciate all the work you do for us, we really do, but this is outside of our jurisdiction, Sonic."

I groan. "Ugh, jurisdiction shmurisdiction. That ain't good enough Officer Nibbles -"

"It's _Tibbles -_!" he interrupts, but I'm already done listening.

"Whatever. I'll run over there and find that creep myself, then." Then I'm out the window and heading down the street.

Jeez, what a nightmare. If you want a job done properly, you must do it yourself.

Shouldn't take too long to head on over to Westopolis. The real problem will be tracing Fang down once I'm there. I really should have taken those tracking lessons from Knuckles. Hey, there's something. I wonder if he's got any plans for today, and if he'd be up for dishing out some vigilante justice with me. Besides, it's been a while since we ran together.

But I should really check on Amy before I head over though, just to make sure she's okay. I mean, I'm sure she's fine and all, with Vanilla and Cream taking care of her at the bakery. I know for a fact they won't let her out of their sight tonight, and if Scourge has any sense he'll be staying away from her too…

Bah, forget it. I'm heading round anyway. It'll only take two seconds.

I know she's still mad at me for missing her birthday party. I just wish she'd let me make it up to her. The tower's been real… empty, since she left me and Tails to try and make it on her own. If I'm honest to myself, I kinda miss having her around. She's one of my oldest friends, and I've done a real shitty job of showing her how much I appreciate everything she does for me and the team.

I haven't even rounded the corner of the block where the bakery is at when I sense it.

Wow.

That green piece of scum is really pushing it now.

I follow his damned signature through the door, recent enough that it jumps straight out at me.

I quickly scan left and right and – surprise, surprise – there he is sitting by the window, bold as brass, staring right at her.

"Oh, hell no," I shout, storming over, starting to shake. "You've gotta be _kidding_ me!"

Amy glances up from the till. I almost hear her gulp.

"Sonic!" she says, startled. Why does she sound so guilty? "What are you doing here?"

"What am _I_ doing here? What is _he_ doing here?" I yell, throwing my arm out and gesturing towards Scourge.

Scourge, for all he's worth – which is nothing – just sits there and grins like the slimeball he is, and shrugs. "Why shouldn't I be here?"

I narrow my eyes at him. "You know damn well why," I growl. I find myself between the two, as if I can protect her from his influence just by standing there. If only it was that easy.

"You're crazy, bro," he scoffs, breaking a cookie in half. "I ain't doing nothing. I'm just sittin' here getting some eats… enjoying the view," he says carelessly, throwing a wink around me to Amy behind the counter. "What's so wrong with that, eh?"

" _Everything_ is wrong with that," I spit, taking a step closer to Scourge as he throws a piece of cookie in his stupid mouth and laughs.

"Sonic," I hear Amy say sternly behind me. "Sonic, calm down. You're making a scene." In the next second, I feel her hands around my shoulders and she's pulling me gently back. Her breath is warm against my neck.

It's a moment before I can tear my eyes away from Scourge's smug grin. I have to get out of here, and Amy too, before something stupid happens.

"Whatever," I eventually say. "He's not worth the time."

Amy rolls her eyes, as if she isn't inclined to believe my prejudice. "Sure," she says, with a sly smile and a dismissive flick of her hand. "I mean, he only saved my life and all."

I try not to growl, but don't quite manage it.

"Sonic," she sighs, ushering me across to the other side of the counter and speaking in soothing tones. "Scourge just came by to return my cell-phone, that's all," she explains, taking it out of her pocket and wiggling it at me. "I thought I'd lost it after last night. So, I offered him something to eat on the house, as thanks. Okay?"

I'm too busy thinking up a plan to get us out of here to respond. When I don't reply, she rolls her eyes.

"Seriously, what is it with you two?"

"You don't want to know," I say darkly.

"Try me," Amy retorts.

"Nah," I say, waving her off. "Anyway, I didn't come here to talk about him. I need your help with something," I lie.

Amy's face becomes serious. "Oh, okay. Has something happened?"

"Yah, well… er. It's Tails, he – he can't find his Chaos Emerald. It might be nothing and he's just left it in some experiment or other, but I'm thinking, what if one of Eggman's cronies made off with it in the night? If he's up to something again, we need to know," I say. "You learned a bit about tracking, right? I was hoping you could help us."

"Well, I could try, yeah," Amy says, her face scrunching up a little with thought. "But wouldn't it be better to call Knuckles? He's a lot better at it than I am…"

"Yeah, but he's probably really busy searching for the other emeralds," I counter scratching my nose. "I don't wanna call him over unless I have to."

"I guess you're right," Amy says. Then she smiles. "Okay, I'll see what I can do. Just give me a minute to grab my things."

Phew.

While she's out the back, I pull out my own cell and send a quick text to Tails.

' _hey buddy, comin round w/ ames. hide ur chaos emerald. play along'_

' _ **What? Why?'**_

' _just do it!'_

' _ **But I don't understand. What do you mean?'**_

' _tails, ill explain later, k, just pls, help a guy out?!'_

"Okay, I'm ready!" Amy calls, zipping up her jacket and shouldering her bag. I manage to hide my phone away before she comes around the corner. She turns and makes another quick apology to Cream and Vanilla for vanishing on them at such short notice.

"Don't worry about it," Vanilla assures her with a smile, balancing a tray of muffins on one hand and a stack of empty plates on the other. "We've got everything covered here. You go and do what you have to do."

I stand holding the bakery door open for Amy, and she's almost reached it, when a voice calls out from the side.

"Hey, doll-face!"

I almost combust with frustration when Amy _actually_ turns around and raises an eyebrow at him. Seriously Ames, I think, please don't encourage him. He doesn't deserve any more of your attention than he's already got.

"Watch your back out there, 'kay toots?" Scourge's eyes glint cruelly in the light, and his eyes are on me, not her, when he speaks. "Your little boyfriend don't want Scourgey out there watching it for you."

Amy pulls a face, and then turns her gaze over to me with a silent question. "Thanks, but I can look after myself," she calls back, walking past me and out into the street.

I spare Scourge one more glare in warning before following her out.

* * *

"So, when did you last see it, Tails?"

"Err, the other day, I think? I was working on upgrading the Tornado," Tails replies awkwardly, gesturing at the small jet-plane and scratching the back of his head. Every now and then he glances over at Sonic, looking slightly confused. Sonic doesn't seem to notice.

"Mm-hmm," I mumble, only half listening. I close my eyes and try to tune into the chaos currents in the air. There is a muddle of orange floating about this way and that, all tangled up with strong hints of purple and blue – not to mention the natural currents of the world itself sifting in and out of just about everything, blurring the distinctions between one trace and the next.

How Knuckles manages to make sense of all of this, I have no clue. Every time I try and hone in on something, I just wind up grasping onto Sonic's signature by mistake. Besides, the purple chaos emerald in his pocket is shining like a beacon.

I sigh, and open my eyes. "Sorry, Sonic," I smile apologetically. "You might have to step outside."

He blinks, then frowns. "Aw, man, really? I wanted to stay and watch."

"Yes, really. It's hard to tune in with your energy standing over there, shouting at me."

"Fine," he groans in mock disappointment. "I guess I'll be upstairs, then."

"Thanks," I say.

I take a deep breath and try again.

There are slightly less colour divergences to work with now, but it's still just as hard. The entire workshop is flooded with orange-tinted chaos energy, it's hard to tell where one thread begins and another ends. I start to pace the room, looking for any sign of the orange energy having left the building, but the perimeter is clear. It must still be in here, somewhere. Strange. Tails isn't exactly the careless type. Quite the opposite, in fact.

"Are you sure it's gone, Tails?" I ask.

Tails, who is sitting on one of the counters, seems to be awfully interested in the ceiling all of a sudden. He wrenches his eyes away from the tiles and glances at me. "Um, yeah. I usually keep it in the tank over there," he says, pointing. Of course, I know the tank. I lived here. "But it's not there anymore."

"Uh-huh…" I tone.

Tails scratches his head again.

I narrow my eyes slightly at him. "You don't seem particularly worried about it."

He looks at the floor.

"Tails, what's going on?"

He looks up at me again, those baby-blue eyes thrown open wide and innocent. "What do you mean?"

"You're a terrible liar."

He opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again. He looks at the ceiling again. I follow his line of sight.

You've got to be kidding me.

"Did _Sonic_ put you up to this?" I ask, suddenly putting two and two together.

"Up to what?"

"Tails."

Tails groans, looking very uncomfortable with the whole situation. "It wasn't my idea!" he blurted, throwing his hands up before him. His eyes dart over the sofa in the corner of the workshop.

I walk over there, pull out one of the cushions and, lo and behold, there's the Emerald. I look over at Tails and raise my eyebrows at him.

"For the record," he says, "I have _no idea_ what's going on!" Well, that makes two of us…

"Sonic!" I shout upwards. "Come down here!"

I've barely finished saying the words when a breeze lifts my hair and I find him standing right before me. I wiggle the 'elusive' Chaos Emerald at him.

"Ah, you found it! That's good," he grins.

"Yeah. I found it," I say flatly. "Under the sofa."

Just like that the show is over. Sonic covers his eyes and groans, before spinning around to face Tails. "Under the sofa? Really dude? Your genius mind couldn't think of a better place?"

"Hey, don't turn this on me!" Tails returned, jumping to his feet. "You didn't exactly give me a lot of time to prepare!"

"Prepare for what?" I cry, getting in between the two of them. But Tails looks about as lost as I feel. "Sonic, what am I doing here?"

I can see on his face that Sonic's brain is moving about million miles an hour. Shame for him, though, that his feet are the only part of his anatomy with that ability. Eventually, he seems to decide upon the truth. "I just – I had to get you away from Scourge, okay?" he mutters, so quietly that I almost miss it.

I let out a breath of disbelief. "Wow." I say simply. I'm a little lost for words. "Okay, spit it out. Why do you have such a huge problem with him?"

Sonic's brow turns down with frustration. "Because I _know_ him, Ames, okay? He's bad news -"

"What, just because he walks the streets and talks a little rough? He saved my life, Sonic -"

"And you can bet he'll be up to no good about it, too. Just… trust me on this, Ames, please. I don't want to see you get hurt."

"Get hurt how?" I ask, waving my hands around. "How can I trust you when you won't even answer a simple question? Just what happened between you two?"

"It's a long story," he says, his eyes dark. There's a flicker of something there I haven't seen before. His usually joy-filled, care-free eyes are alight with a glimmer of… fear? Regret? It's hard to tell. "It's not a story you wanna hear."

I sigh.

Part of me is still way too tired to try and understand what's going on here.

Yes, I can accept that there's history between the two of them. It's plain as day that there's animosity there, too but… what exactly does Sonic expect me to do? It's not like I went chasing after Scourge the way I used to go chasing after him… I'm not a silly little girl anymore. It's not _my_ fault that Scourge came into the bakery. And he _did_ save me last night in the alley. I can't be ungrateful for that.

For all that Sonic seems to care about me, and is asking for me to trust me on this, I can't help but think of how unfair it is that _he_ won't trust _me_ with the truth of all the bad-blood between them.

"Where are you going…?" Sonic asks me quietly, as I'm putting my jacket back on.

I zip it up and turn to look at him. "Not back to the bakery, if that's what you're worried about," I say acidly. "I'm going home, if you must know."

"Want me to walk y -"

"No thank-you, I'll be fine," I say shortly.

When I reach the door, I turn back to say good-bye, and am surprised by how defeated he looks.

"Sonic, I know you're just trying to look out for me," I begin. He catches my eye, and I wish he didn't look as sad as does, "but please, don't lie to me like that again."

"I'm sorry, Ames, but I just -"

"I'll be at home, if you feel like telling me the truth."

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Well, there we have it. This is only going to be a short fic - I've got about eight more chapters planned before it wraps up. This is more of a prequel to a larger, much darker story I'm developing involving the whole gang. Hopefully I'll get it out there someday. Anyway, reviews are much loved as always, and I'm happy to answer any questions about whatever._

 _Peace and love!_

 _~ Indie x_


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